Chiaroscuro
by Atarashii
Summary: Darkness cannot live without the light, just as light cannot live without its shadows. -HikaruxKaoru; demons & angels-


**Title**: Chiaroscuro**  
Author**: Atarashii**  
Series**: Ouran High School Host Club**  
Rating**: T**  
Genre**: Angst/Drama**  
Pairing(s)**: HikaruxKaoru

**Disclaimer**: Don't own anything but the fic.

**Notes**: ...

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**Chiaroscuro  
Teaser**

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Raucous laughter, as harsh and unforgiving as the cold metal that bit into his skin.

The shackles bound him to the floor by wrist and ankles, forcing him to his knees; _'Your kind thinks yourselves so high and mighty - a little subjugation never hurt anyone.'_

His head hurt, the low throb of discomfort transforming to an incessant pounding not long after his capture. How long ago had that been? He couldn't remember. His mind was hazy, memories blurring images and words into incomprehensible fragments of fleeting thoughts.

Everything hurt.

Bruises discoloured, cuts and gashes split apart the pale skin that had been unblemished - flawless - once before. If only he could actually _remember_ 'before'.

Some bones were broken.

He could tell with every slight shift he managed, each deep breath he struggled to take.

A part of him was sure, so sure, that under normal circumstances every pain and every ache would be fine. That, before, everything would of easily taken care of itself, and -

There it was again: Before.

Before, before, before.

Before what, aside from the obvious predicament he was now in?

Why -

"Well, well, looks like our little _guest_ has finally settled down."

He opened his eyes at the voice, watching with a half-lidded gaze as the very shadows of the room moved, tendrils of darkness shifting and coalescing into human-esque beings of inhuman origin.

The very sight of them brought forth a new emotion: Fear.

Eyes glowed crimson, fangs and sharpened teeth gleaming as the group of newcomers drew near; each step closer caused his heart to beat faster, until he was almost certain that the very sound of its racing would forever be imprinted in his mind, as well as those of the others.

"Mm," The largest of the group - and the one with the longest pair of horns - chuckled, eyes darkening in shade to a near-black, "The fun we had before with ya was nothing to the fun we're gonna have _now_..." He kneeled before the captive, a hand reaching out, fingernails that were more like claws gripping a quivering chin, "Gotta love those binds, ya? If it weren't for them, this would be a lot tougher... hell, we might not of been able to get'cha in the first place!"

The horned one leaned over, noxious breath akin to rotting flesh exhaled and causing the other to flinch, "Yet we got lucky, finding something like that that'd bind you, and still... Still you remain fine for the pickin', and believe me. We're going to have a lot of _fun_ with ya before we kill ya..."

The demon - for that is what he and the remainder of his companions were - tightened his fingers a little, tips of his claws digging into delicate flesh and causing beads of blood to form from the punctures before letting the chin go and reaching over, and -

Eyes widened, the amber hues flashing gold for the briefest of moments before shutting as their owner was made all too aware once more of the feathered appendages hanging limply on either side of his naked frame; how could he not, as it was _torn from his back_, sending a new wave of _pain_ and _agony_ lancing along his spine and leaving behind a bloodied remnant of bone.

He wanted to scream, and as the action was repeated with each of his remaining wings, he did - and the demons just laughed as raucously as before, taking fun in the angel's pain and uncaring of the blood that poured from the newly obtained wounds, nor of the fact that he had fallen unconscious once more.

Why should they, when they had a feast that other demons would be envious of?

The wings of seraphim were a rare treat indeed, after all, not to mention the _power_ contained within them...

A single feather drifted to the ground, its silver and gold edge tainted as it fell into the ever-growing puddle of bright crimson.

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**Endnotes**: Reviews inspire, silence doesn't.


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